


Drunk Texts 3: Slightly Sober (I wish I wasn't)

by LearnToShareFeanor



Series: Drunk Texts [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, That awkward moment when the guy you're dating brings his daughter, and realize that he's just bought you on his date, and that his boyfriend is only a little older than you, second date jitters, that awkward moment when you go out to eat with your dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5178308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnToShareFeanor/pseuds/LearnToShareFeanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel has spent all night, and most of the day at the hospital (see Archer's Notes for details), with his daughter Tauriel, and wants to get out. After calling Erestor and securing date number two, he also decides to bring his daughter- because Tauriel needs to get out too, and the best way to do that, of course, is to go as the third wheel to your dad's date. And she has to confront the ugly truth- her dad is really, really, awkward on dates. Oh, and his boyfriend is almost her age, but that's completely not an issue. Really.</p><p>Takes place during chapter 4 of Archer's Notes. I recommend reading up to at least chapter 4 first, but this is just an interlude and can be read on its' own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Erestor

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of an interlude in Archer's Notes, I don't own the characters (except for Daisy). Well, Tauriel had to meet him sometime. Somehow, I don't think either she or Erestor thought they'd meet on a date- with Glorfindel. Glorfindel may just be in the doghouse for this one.  
> Please read and review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: I realized I put a whole paragraph twice. It's fixed.

“Speaking”

‘ _thinking_ ’

‘ _written notes or texts_ ’

\-------

                I think I’ve finished it- my most recent book. I’m going through it over and over again, with more of an eye for grammar and spelling than I did when I was writing it. I know that I’m missing things, it’s 45 chapters, and I’m not finding much, so I  _have_ to be missing things. ‘ _Maybe I didn’t?_ ’ I wonder. After all, I haven’t been drinking nearly as much. That isn’t to say that I’ve been  _completely_ sober, but I’ve forced myself not to buy anything alcoholic for the last few days, and so I’m rationing my current supplies.

                I lean back in my office chair and rub my eyes in irritation. ‘ _What the hell is wrong with me? Most people can’t write with alcohol, and now I can’t write without it?_ ’ Logically, I know that isn’t the case. Usually, there are more errors than anything else when I write when I’m drunk, I’m just not used to writing when sober. I’m not used to doing much except for driving when I’m sober.

                I push myself away from my desk and spin around, then stand up. How could I have forgotten? My baby, my bike is out of the shop! Maybe that’s what I need- the wind slamming against my jacket and helmet, cold air leaching any sort of warmth from my hands, the thrill of just getting on the highway and going fast with nothing between me and the road but two wheels and an engine. The more I think about it, the more I itch to just  _go_ , and before I know it, I’m throwing on my jacket, changing my house shoes out for a worn pair of leather boots, my pajama pants for jeans, and I’m removing the extra side packs on my bike to hook up the sidecar.

                Daisy is practically dancing around the bike- she knows what this means, and I think she likes my bike just as much as I do. “Do you want to go ride, girl? Huh?” I tease, and she barks loudly, the stub of her tail wagging happily.

                Without further ado, her collar is put back on, leash attached to the inside of the sidecar so that when she inevitably needs to do her business, she can do so without the risk of her getting lost when chasing something, and we’re off.

                Kids- and sometimes adults- point and laugh at the dog, her own little custom helmet on (one of the few things that I really splurge on), riding in a sidecar. We make a ludicrous picture, I know, and we head up the highway for an hour before I have to walk her. I get more gas, we head back, and then I get the phone call. That’s the one thing that I don’t like about my bike. If I were in a car- ‘ _or a ridiculously souped up truck’_  I think, recalling Glorfindel’s vehicle- I would be able to answer without a problem. On a bike, if I fish around in my jacket for my phone, I have a fairly large chance of crashing. So I don’t- I feel it stop vibrating, start again, before I find a rest stop.

                ‘ _One missed call: Fin. One voice mail_ ’ I pull off my helmet and let Daisy out to walk around, wrapping the loop of her leash around my wrist.

                First, I check the voice mail- always good to know what I’m being called for. There’s nothing, and it lasts less than a second, so he probably didn’t mean to leave one. A few seconds later, I have my phone up to my ear and he picks up.

                “Hey, sorry I missed you.” God, that sounds corny. ‘ _Please let it not sound as stupid as I think it does.’_

                He laughs and I flush, embarrassed though I know he can’t exactly see me. “It’s fine. Kinda need a break, do you want to go out sometime?” Was that a pleading note in his voice? So hard to tell- I’ve only been on one date with the man, but it’s enough to know he has a ridiculously expressive face. And he talks with his hands- I’ve never really understood that.

                “Sure, bike’s fixed, so I’ve got to break her in again anyway. When are you wanting to go?” Suddenly, I frown. It’s a Wednesday- late Wednesday, but Wednesday nonetheless, and it’s only 2 pm. Shouldn’t he be at the gym?

                “Oh, just whenever- as long as you don’t have work, of course.”

                I shrug, and then have another moment of embarrassment when I realize that there’s no way for him to see me do so.  “I should be back in town in half an hour or so. I take it you’ve got the day off?”

                “Yeah, I had to take my daughter to the hospital, ended up taking today and tomorrow off.”

                I make a concerned noise- he’s told me quite a bit about Tauriel, and she seems sweet, if a bit rebellious. “Is she all right?”

                “Well, she’s at home with me right now, doing better- her friend got the sh- stuffing beat out of him last night.”

                I have to hold in my snort. ‘ _Stuffing? Is her friend a teddy bear?’_ “That sucks. Hey, I’ll call you when I’m back in town. Is that okay?”

                I wait long enough to hear his response, say my goodbyes, and hang up. That’s one thing I’d forgotten about relationships. I usually prefer one night stands, when you’re dating someone there’s a certain amount of nervousness. It’s not just- bang them and go, it’s _impress_ them, keep impressing them, keep a certain image.

                Before long, I’m back in town, and I put Daisy outside again, after feeding her and giving her some more water. I also end up changing out the blanket in her doghouse again, she’s torn it to shreds. I make a mental note to get her another chew toy so she doesn’t give it the same treatment. She’s generally a well behaved mutt, but sometimes- well, dogs will be dogs.

                “Hey, I’m back in. Where did you want to eat?”

                He doesn’t know, no surprise, but then shocks me. “Is it all right if I bring Tauriel? She needs to get out the house a bit.” I’m silent, unsure of the response I should give. _‘impress them, keep impressing them, keep a certain image.'_

             ‘ _Yes, bring your daughter who I probably know, because I’m closer to her age than yours, and make it awkward at the restaurant, or no, and make it awkward now.’_

The silence must have lasted longer than I’d thought. “I’ll just call in a pizza or something for her, it’s fine.” I wince and respond.

                “No, sorry, I just- my dog was-“ I look outside and feel guilty. Daisy isn’t actually doing anything except for chasing a lone squirrel. “chasing something in the house. You can bring her, it’s fine.” ‘ _No it’s not,’_ I think, pessimistic to the core. ‘ _She’s probably going to hate me, and this is going to be over as soon as it’s begun._ ’

                “Oh, thanks.” He responds, and I hear him put down the phone a little, probably so he won’t deafen me, and call to someone. Probably Tauriel, I decide. The name sounds ridiculously familiar, but then again, I spent most of high school drunk, and I went to Erebor, not the fancy one she goes to.

                We decide on a little out-of-the way place- date-like enough to be nice, busy enough not to be too entirely awkward with his daughter there.  ' _Who am I kidding?'_ I wonder. ' _His daughter's there, of course it's going to be awkward.'_


	2. Tauriel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Drunk Texts 3: Slightly Sober (I Wish I Wasn't). For context about the hospital and Faramir, I recommend reading Archer's Notes. In the earlier chapters of AN, you'll also get references to the twins' drinking buddy. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think and point out any issues you see (grammar, spelling, ect) in the reviews. Beta read by yours truly!

“Speaking”

‘ _Thinking’_

_ ‘Texting or written notes’ _

* * *

 

                “I hate hospitals.” I grumble after texting the guys. I mean, it’s great that he’s going to be okay, but I _still_ can’t visit him, and we just got finished with police interviews. I had to sign a statement, and now the entire world is going to know that Legolas, my best friend, has been abused since his mom died. _‘Yay.’_ I think, ‘ _Now all I need to do is give his dad the key to his room. After all, I’ve just finished off any remaining trust he has.’_

                My dad is pacing again, and I finally let him drag me to mom’s house. She left a note saying she was worried, but that she’d went to work as normal, and asked me to stay at Dad’s place if I was going to be out too long. Whatever. I go upstairs and collapse on my bed.

                “Hey sweetie, do you want to go get something to eat?” He’s asking in that weird voice that makes me think that _he_ thinks I’m still 5 years old.

                “No.” I say shortly. “Food in the fridge, I’ll be fine.”

                My bed dips under his weight and I grumble again. “Don’t you want to get out a little? We just spent all day in the most depressing place we probably could.” ‘ _Damn it’_ I think in irritation. That particular voice is the one he uses when he’s asking nicely again- and the next time, it’s going to be an order.

                I sigh in the most over-dramatic way possible and roll over on my back. “Fine. But you’ve got to take me somewhere nice. With actual people.”

                “Actual people?” He asks, and he has the nerve to look like he’s going to laugh.

                “Yes, actual people, as in people who are not just the two of us, because do you remember last time, Dad?” I’m growing enraged, and now I’m sitting up. “Last time? When the waitress thought that I was your _girlfriend_?”

                He breaks down and ends up laughing. “I’ll invite somebody, don’t worry. Why don’t you take a shower or do whatever girls do that takes them 10 hours to do.”

                I throw a pillow at his retreating back, and then respond with a shoe when he only laughs harder. Dads- they’re the worst sometimes.

                A few minutes later, I’ve taken a shower- no, not because Dad told me to, thank you very much- and I threw on some makeup to cover up the bags under my eyes. I’m really starting to regret this, because Dads have a requirement, you see, to be Dads. They have to have the sports guy friends, the really awkward ‘I’m hitting on your daughter but don’t say anything’ friends, and the few, actually nice friends. Well, I suppose he could invite whoever he’s dating. I hadn’t really paid attention to it when he was talking about him (because _ew,_ Dad, don’t talk to me about your boyfriend), but Dad wouldn’t be so weird as to invite his boyfriend to lunch with his daughter. Would he?

 

                Oh, God, I’m probably going to lunch with his boyfriend.

                I hear him calling up from the stairs, asking if a nicer than usual restaurant is okay with me, and dread fills my stomach. ‘ _I’m_ definitely _going on a date with my Dad. And his boyfriend.’_

                I walk downstairs and nearly gag- my suspicions have been proven correct! He’s shaving off his stubble with one of mom’s razors, and it sounds like the dryer’s running with his shirt- no wrinkles, and getting rid of the smell with a dryer sheet. “Oh God.” I say, and he turns around, smiling.

                _Smiling!_ How dare he? “Oh, no.” I say, and he frowns.

                “What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asks, concerned.

                “Dad, please please _please,_ tell me that I am _not_ going as third wheel on a date with you.” I demand. At this point, I’ll take the ass that always hits on me happily.

                He finishes a final swipe with the razor and rinses it off, and my terror has been confirmed. Dad _never_ stalls. “Well, sweetie, he’s really nice, you’ll like him.”

                No, he’s using the same voice he uses when he’s trying to get me to like something I hate. “Oh my GOD, DAD! This is going to be _beyond_ awkward!”

                His face falls, and he starts biting his lip. I can see now that he gets what I’m worried about, and mentally plead for him to pick up the phone and cancel with his current boy toy. Then, his face clears up. “It’s going to be fine, Tauriel, really. You can even invite one of your friends!” He leaves for the dryer without so much as an ‘I’m sorry I’m ruining your night even more’, and I’m reminded of why I live with mom. Even _Faramir_ knows he’s awkward and tries to fix it. Dad- not so much.

                He practically drags me to his truck, and my only comfort is the look that his new boyfriend and I exchange. Mine says, ‘ _I don’t want to be here’,_ and it seems to me that his says, ‘ _Why the hell did he bring his daughter?’_

                Erestor is, as Dad promised, nice. A little off, especially when it looks like he has to make an effort to put down the alcohol menu, but nice. It’s only when we’re halfway through dinner that I realize it- I _know_ him. From somewhere, I don’t know where, but I know him. It’s only when I’m home that I figure it out- he’s the drunk that the twins used to hang around all the time. But he doesn’t _look_ like the guy I met a few times. No yellowed skin, sunken eyes, perpetual scowl, and unexplained bruises. So- how do I tell Dad that his boyfriend is- or was- a raging alcoholic with severe rage issues?

                Dad’s lucky I love him so much- otherwise, I would _so_ not put up with this crap.


	3. Glorfindel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand.... I hope you enjoy the end to this awkwardness! Chapter 3/3 is up. Please read and review!
> 
> Update: I realized I put Feanor when I meant to put Melkor. Fixed.

“Speaking”

‘ _Thinking’_

_‘ Written notes or texts’_

                I hate hospitals. I don’t know why, I just always have. So, eventually, I made my daughter get back in the truck and dropped her off at Carolyn’s house. She generally stays with Carolyn, but I have weekends and holidays. That doesn’t really mean much, though, seeing as we live in the same town, and Tauriel has keys to both of our houses. We used to have keys to one another’s homes as well, in the early days after the divorce, but I turned mine in a few weeks after the custody agreement was settled, and she- she didn’t want to, but one day, I found her key dropped through my mail slot, and what we had was officially, in the eyes of the law, and more importantly, _our_ eyes, over.

                On weekends, after competitions, or just late nights, Tauriel stays at my house. She doesn’t like the way her mom gets onto her about having boys over- even if they’re just the archery team- and I don’t really mind. Sometimes, I even hang up targets and let them go at it. Usually, I order a few pizzas, a ton of soda, and I stock the fridge with insane amounts of ice cream that will be completely gone the moment Legolas, Faramir, and the twins see it. I remember meeting the team for the first time- I’m still watchful where the twins are involved, Halbarad and Aragorn are generally happier to watch whatever game is on and scream at the TV than anything else, and Faramir- well, he’s a class on his own. He used to creep me the hell out, I was close to telling him he couldn’t come over anymore, and then Rumil told me. I’m pretty sure the kid wasn’t supposed to, but Rumil’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut. About anything. Mild autism- mentally _not there_ was how he put it, but I feel guilty every time I think of the kid like that. He’s nice, quiet, thinks before he speaks- and that’s a rarity with kids these days.

                Damn, I’m starting to sound like my old man. With that in mind, I head up to Tauriel’s room and practically beg for her to get out for a few minutes. If it’s not with a member of the team, she doesn’t usually get out at all. It’s nice that she’s got friends who are close knit and all, don’t get me wrong, but they’re all a little off. Faramir is the most obvious one, but something’s going on with those twins, and Halbarad takes showers and washes his clothes at my place sometimes- like he doesn’t have anywhere else to do it. _‘Shit’_ , I wonder, _‘Is the kid homeless or something?’_ The idea is disregarded quickly- he’s too well-kept to be homeless.

                Anyway, the more important thing, right now at least, is my daughter’s demands. “Actual people.” I say to myself. I look at my phone and think, _‘Why not? It might be enjoyable._ ’ Erestor has an odd, quirky personality, and she seems to like that in her friends. They’ll probably get along just fine. With that in mind, I call him.

                There isn’t an answer, so I scroll through my contacts. “Melkor?” I ask out loud, and then shake my head. He has some weird obsession with lights and hair, and he freaks Tauriel out. The guy’s only fun when you’re drunk- and even then, he can get a little _too_ intense. My phone rings, and I notice with relief that I might not have to make back up plans after all- it’s Erestor.

                ‘ _Keep it cool’_ I remind myself, determined not to put my foot in my mouth as usual.

                “Hey, sorry I missed you.” He says, before I can even say ‘Glorfindel here’, or any other sort of greeting, and I can’t help but laugh.

                “It’s fine.” I say, and then ask- or beg, if I’m being accurate, “Kinda need a break, do you want to go out sometime?” ‘ _Damn it.’_ I think, irritated at myself. ‘ _What happened to keeping it cool?’_

                “Sure, bike’s fixed, so I’ve got to break her in again anyway. When are you wanting to go?” Crap. I hadn’t thought about that. He might have to do something. When did he have to take care of the old lady, whoever she was, again?

                Hoping that this was still salvageable, I say- “Oh, just whenever- as long as you don’t have work, of course.”

                “I should be back in town in half an hour or so. I take it you’ve got the day off?” He doesn’t seem to mind my answer, and I fight back a relieved sigh.

                “Yeah, I had to take my daughter to the hospital, ended up taking today and tomorrow off.”

                There’s that noise he makes sometimes, again, and I fight off a smile. Then I realize what I just said, and hope I didn’t sound _too_ unconcerned about taking my daughter to the hospital.

                “Is she all right?” He asks, and he sounds probably just as concerned as _I_ should have sounded.

                “Well, she’s at home with me right now, doing better- her friend got the sh- stuffing beat out of him last night.” I’ve really got to start watching my language. What if he’s one of those guys who hates foul language? He doesn’t seem to be, but you never know.

                “That sucks.” He says, and I think I hear a laugh stuck in his throat. “Hey, I’ll call you when I’m back in town. Is that okay?”

                “Sure, that’s fine.” I reply, realizing that since he’s on his bike, he can’t really talk and ride at the same time. Well, he _could_ , I suppose, but didn’t you need both hands? ‘ _Maybe that’s something I should ask about.’_ He ends the call as abruptly as he began it, and I huff in amusement at the little piece of electronics. “No phone manners.” I mutter to myself.

                In a little while- long enough for me to find the dryer sheets and set the dryer to de-wrinkle my shirt, then raid the downstairs bathroom for a razor and some shaving cream, I get a call back.

                “Hey, I’m back in. Where did you want to eat?” Again with the lack of ‘hello’s’! I’m going to have to work on that.

                “Why don’t you pick? I haven’t really thought about it too much.” I reply nervously. ‘ _Future reference, Glorfindel, always pick out a restaurant_ before _you ask someone on a date’_ I berate myself. “Is it all right if I bring Tauriel? She needs to get out the house a bit.” I add, and wince at the silence. Well, this is a no-go, not that I can blame him. Second date, meet the daughter? Why don’t I just call Carolyn, add the ex-wife to the picture.

                “I’ll just call in a pizza or something for her, it’s fine.” I say hurriedly. Tauriel didn’t actually _want_ to leave anyway, she’ll probably be overjoyed.

                “No, sorry, I just- my dog was-“ He stops, and I smack myself in the head. _‘Great, now he’s having to lie so that he doesn’t feel bad. Great job, Glorfindel.’_ “-Chasing something in the house. You can bring her, it’s fine.”

                “Thanks,” I say, and I mean it for more than just agreeing to let me bring my daughter. _‘Thanks for not calling me out on the awkwardness, and not being upset, like a normal person might.’_

                We chat for a while, decide on the restaurant, and I’m the one who hangs up this time. “Tauriel!” I call. “I have an actual person in line for tonight!”

               

                “Oh God.” I hear, and ignore my girl while I finish shaving. Did women always buy the little two or three blade horrors? Hadn’t Carolyn heard of better razors? Well, I suppose I _am_ using it without her permission, so I deserve what I get.

                Tauriel repeats herself, trading ‘God’ for ‘no’ this time, and I ask, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

                “Dad, please please _please,_ tell me that I am _not_ going as third wheel on a date with you.” She begs, and I swallow. Crap, I hadn’t thought of that.

                “Well, sweetie, he’s really nice, you’ll like him.” I respond, hoping that she doesn’t call me out on the ‘eat your vegetables, they actually _don’t_ taste as bad as they look’ voice.

                “Oh my GOD, DAD!” She rarely raises her voice to me, so this is not good at all. “This is going to be _beyond_ awkward!”

                I’m not sure of what to say, and then I remember something about the team taking a break for the next few days because of Legolas. The boys would probably be free tonight. “It’s going to be fine, Tauriel, really. You can even invite one of your friends!”

                She rants and gripes until we reach the restaurant, where she’s on her best behavior. I see them trade a look, and try my best not to wince. Erestor looks as bummed out to have her here as she is to _be_ here. Determined not to be a complete failure this time, I do my best to salvage our lunch, telling as many jokes as I can, and accepting their digs at my admittedly stupid plan of bringing them both together. They seem to make a game out of tormenting me, and I allow it. It’s the least I can do, after all.

                Either way, the important part is that Tauriel seems to be feeling a bit more like her old self. After she hopped in the truck and I snuck a quick kiss- he turned his face so it wasn’t on the lips like I’d hoped, but he was smiling, and blushing, I think- we headed towards my own house. It seemed I hadn’t really ruined both of their evenings after all. 


End file.
